“Should’ve known a slimy empyrean wouldn’t amount to more than a rat.” Kareem’s voice.

“Hiding out, blowing a stick like a woman,” said another.

Ren turned. Six shapes lurked in the dark behind him, fanned out, surrounding him.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he said.

“Better than culling an honorless rat before we have to serve beside you?” said Kareem. “No. We don’t have anything better to do. Who knows how many lives will be saved if you drop out now, you spineless snake?” He sure liked his animal comparisons.

“Look, I’m sorry I turned you guys in.” He really did regret it. “But I’m not leaving.”

Kareem’s teeth gleamed against the night. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d choose the hard way, you worm.”

Ren sank into his stance, blood thudding in his ears, knuckles white around his flute. His eyes darted, looking for a way to get out of the circle. Even if he’d been a martial genius—which he wasn’t—this was a bad position.

Snow crunched behind him, and he spun just in time to catch a punch on his forearm. Another blow came from the side and he smacked it away with his ney. Then a foot collided with his knee from behind and his stance crumpled. Arms wrapped around him in a hold, and a fist flew out of the darkness slamming into his gut. He hissed out, Qi hardening his core and absorbing the impact. But another one crashed into him, smashed through his tensed muscles. His breath gusted out, leaving him heaving and retching.

One of the shapes—one with shining teeth—knelt down to meet his eyes. Kareem. “Consider this a lesson from a concerned recruit. It’s bad for your health to disobey your betters.”

He needed to get free, wait for an opening, break the hold, escape.

Pain exploded across his cheek and his head snapped to the side. Then again on the other side.

Thoughts fled, and he raged, bucking and swinging his weight, stamping at the feet of whoever was holding him. But his feet only met ground and soon he was panting, in an even tighter grip that twisted his arms back till his shoulders stung with agony.

A knee hit his nose with a crunch and the red light of hurt bloomed in his vision. Next a rib cracked. The rest of the beating bled together.

They dropped his limp body into the snow.

He curled up around a kick to his gut, and gagged. Then something caught him under the chin and all was black.

***

Light seared into his throbbing mind even through his eyelids. Ren tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. He managed barely a sliver and it was a knife in his brain. He tried to sit up but a spike of pain sent him right back down. That little movement was enough to send his head spinning.

At least the ground was soft. No. He was on a bed or a cot. A breeze blew in and he shivered from his toes to his aching torso. He was naked, save a sheet over him.

“You’re awake.” A familiar feminine voice.

He tried to ask her what had happened but all that came out was, “Gahwasaauw.” His jaw drove a spike of pain into his skull. Broken.

“Don’t speak.” He cracked an eye open and met a pair of melted chocolate eyes. Had she seen him naked?

Ren flushed even as he cursed himself. That was nothing to worry about now. If he couldn’t even move, how was he going to compete in the trials in a week?

Amhara walked off and he heard muffled voices from across the tent. Footsteps approached, heavier than hers.

“You’re a real mess,” said a man. The doctor. “We have some advanced medicines that will accelerate your healing. But, how do I say this, we need your consent. It’ll hurt like hell and come out of your pay.”

Azeroth’s flaming horse cock. Of course it would.

“If this had happened during training it would come out of the commissary’s pocket, but since it wasn’t a training related injury and you were found at the edge of camp in the middle of the night, it’s on you- Wait. Oh. Silly me. Looks like it is covered after all. You’re lucky, If you didn’t have an awakened dantian, the bone-flower broth wouldn’t be an option. Nod, if you give consent.”

Ren nodded. It was a small movement but it sent his world spinning all over again. He swallowed rising bile.

The doctor pulled off the sheet, Ren’s only protection from the cold and the only shield for his modesty. A salve was spread across his ribs, his gut, his back, his thighs, his left arm, which was mottled black and blue. Had his jaw not been swollen shut he would have screamed as the doctor massaged his left hand. It felt like it was full of broken glass. Next was his neck and jaw and cheek and nose.

“Sadly there isn’t much I can do for the concussion you got. It’s possible the bone-flower broth will speed things up, but head injuries are always tough.”

The salve was actually kind of nice. It was a warm buzzing against the cold. It grew warmer and warmer and hotter and hotter and hotter. Nope. That wasn’t pleasant at all. This time Ren managed a scream.

The sadist didn’t even blink. “Great, now that the salve has set in, it's time to drink the broth.” He propped Ren’s head up and brought a steaming ladle to his mouth. It smelled earthy.

Ren sipped it. Nasty. Equal parts cut grass and rotting corpse.

“If you sip it like that you’ll most likely not be able to finish the first spoonful. I suggest you take it all at once.”

Ren grimaced and slurped down the whole ladle. It took two gulps. His stomach tied into knots and he struggled to keep it down.

“Okay, you will start to feel a strange sensation. Most describe it as a sharp, cold burning.”

That was close to the truth, if lacking in expletives. This bastard, bloodless rat fucker. If Ren had known how bad this would hurt he would have said no.

“By now the salve has sunk into the soft tissue and around the bone. Direct the broth with your Qi till it merges with the heat of the salve.”

Ren’s breaths were little more than inarticulate hissing curses, but he pushed the cold energy out to meet the hot. It tingled all across his body where the sensations met. That was nice. Numbness rather than agony.

“Okay, now just visualize your body as it usually is,” said the doctor. “You don’t need to be specific or exact, your intuitive sense of self will guide the process.”

Ren focused on his body. He was taller now than when he’d left Katarn. Some of his muscle had come back, and he was more agile than he’d ever been. His posture was better now too.

Then something started moving in his hand. His bones were moving into place! The jagged edge slid across a nerve and he screamed. But he didn’t pass out.

The next couple hours were possibly the worst of his life. Enough pain could beggar a king, and it wasn’t long before Ren was wishing for nothing more than death.

Life was pain. Breath was pain. Everything was pain. He laughed and cried and screamed even as his jaw scraped and shifted.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

But like all things, his eternal agony ended. Ren blinked. It was over.

“Okay, take a breather. The first dose got most of your bones in place. The next will reconnect them.”

Fucking bleeding light. Asura burn all the heavens. Goliorthamun of Darkness take it all.

He looked around. No way was he taking another dose. The sun was falling, a beam of light landed on the table beside him. Glinting on that table was a butterfly pin.

No. Ren could do this. He had to do well in the trials. His family needed him.

“I’m ready, Doc.”

“No, I’m just Doctor Harun. Doc is what we call our enigmatic medical leader. Let me tell you I’ve never seen such skill or ruthless efficiency when it comes to triage.”

Ren glared.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Of course you don’t care about that right now. Here, you go.”

It tasted worse the second time.

At some point, Ren grabbed his pin off the table and several hours later, the shape of a butterfly was firmly imprinted upon his palm.

*******

Amhara was so tired of military men. It had heartened her to see her patient—who had repeatedly denied treatment—not only accept the healing they had to offer, but also let loose some tears. It seemed to her that he’d been needing a good cry. They all probably did. These military men, trying to act tough all the time.

But her mother had taught her that men put on those hard exteriors because they were actually softer on the inside than women. Her own little brother was proof of this. And she made sure he didn’t lose track of his ability to express feelings, even though he resisted. Even though he often pushed back and seemed unable to understand the service she was providing. He acted like she was just picking on him, treating her like a bully. Someday he would understand.

She shook her head and focused back on her task of sanitizing the surgical equipment. Earlier that day a messenger had arrived informing them that a patrol had been ambushed by bandits and their commanding officer, the son of somebody no doubt, was in need of surgery. A shard of something stuck in his brain.

Doc was the only one they trusted to do the procedure, so someone had paid for transport via Aether-stabilized cart all the way to the camp just so he could get the best of the best care. A sensible decision, by her measure considering the Doc never went south of Rattan. Amhara would surely want the same for her own son when she had one.

Someday.

But for now her hands were more than full taking care of all these baby men who refused to acknowledge their pain. She could see in the lines that clung to the faces of those who saw combat that there was deep pain underneath all the bluster. They needed someone to help heal their minds as well as their bodies.

She’d foolishly hoped that she might meet a marital prospect during her time serving. Uswar village had been such a small pond of men who could never be her match. But these men were even worse. And the higher ups encouraged it.

It was always the quickest treatment, then right back to duty. What about the emotional wounds? What about the long term costs of pushing yourself over and over till joints started to give out? Till stress fractures formed in the bones and the soul alike.

Her focus slipped and she narrowly avoided slicing open her hand. That wouldn’t do. She couldn’t be spraying blood on everything she’d just cleaned.

Task complete, she headed to check on Recruit Ren. He was a foreigner, though he didn’t have an accent, so she couldn’t really tell where he was from. Despite the initial tough front he’d put up, he was a surprisingly sensitive boy. After he’d finished screaming, he’d even apologized for burdening Doctor Harun. He might be a fine man some day.

It’d been a hard day for him. After the bone-flower broth, which sounded like it was very painful, he’d been cross-examined by the camp investigators.

Their grey uniforms were trimmed in black, and they always carried sharp steel. Not that she’d seen much of them in her time serving. They rarely had a reason to come to the medic tents of the training camp. But he’d obviously been beaten really badly by someone in camp.

He hadn’t said a word about who. Why did men protect people who hurt them? Was pride really so important?

If she was being honest, his stubborn refusal to talk made her smile. Even when the tall, skinny investigator had yelled at him and accused him of “being the problem”, getting so loud the Doc had come from her office to shut him up, the recruit hadn’t said a word. Her brother was stubborn like that. Ren even had the same nervous tendency of lowering his eyes when he was uncomfortable. Now that he couldn’t run away she was taking maybe just a little too much pleasure in teasing him.

She missed her brother. She knew all his sensitive spots and could make him squirm so easily. Everyone here seemed to perform even harder when they were talking to her. Even Ren, underneath all his nerves, was putting on a brave face for her. How was she supposed to help them?

But there was that one recruit. The one who kept bringing her flowers.

She glanced to the vase where the bright red petals had faded to maroon and started to shrivel.

An appreciation for flowers and beauty spoke of a man who was more in touch with his inner softness. He wasn’t so bad.

*******

Life was a funny thing. It sure was.

Parna never thought he’d be in the military. But here he was.

He had always known he was destined for greatness, though. It was easy to beat others at their own game when you knew something like that. Besides, people who stayed in their own little world had smaller minds. Less adaptable.

He’d adapted. Over and over. He became whatever he needed.

It hadn’t mattered what the others said. What they called him. They didn’t know anything.

Orphans learned fast, and perhaps that was his greatest asset. He learned faster and tried harder than anyone. It also helped that combat came naturally to him.

He’d grown up fighting. And at some point along the way, he’d started winning. There was an anger that had started burning in him the day Mom got her first coughing fit. The day he’d tracked down his father for help. The day that rich piece of gutter filth sneered and kicked him from the doorstep.

That cruel laugh rang in his ears for months as he watched his mother waste away. None of her clients gave even a bit to help pay for treatment. They’d already had their fun. And he just kept hearing his father’s mocking chuckle.

Then a robbery gone wrong saw the man dead. Better an orphan than a bastard, he figured.

But the laughing stuck in his mind.

It was a cruel twist that he could still hear it even now, when he couldn’t even properly remember his mother’s voice.

He thought maybe he could get rid of it by tracking down the thugs who’d done it. But the hangman beat him to it.

Finally, when old Skinny-Finger put him in the fighting ring, that laugh became his own. It was his strength. He’d laugh anything off. Pain. Fear.

Anger was the one thing he couldn’t let go of. So he made friends with that too.

But his mother had always told him he was a hero. That he was meant for more. That he would always be greater than his origins. More than a son of a whore. But she was the kindest person he’d ever known, and he’d tear down the heavens before he let himself be ashamed of her.

One day it was just too much. All the backstabbing and scrambling for the next copper. It was beneath him. So he went to join the Northern Brigade. The best, in his opinion. The heroes that protected everyone from barbarian invasions, and fought the beasts that crawled down from the mountains. One of the only companies that would let even a kid from the streets make it into the ranks of their Asbar, as long as he could prove himself.

Which Parna would do.

He took a whiff of the flowers he’d gathered after training. Amhara’s current flowers were probably wilting by now. She was usually so guarded, which made sense. He could see the mask she wore to protect herself from all the constant advances that a beautiful girl would get in a place like this. His mother had a similar mask.

And just like his mother’s, her mask would melt whenever she saw the flowers. That smile—so raw—was all he needed. None of the insults or threats could reach him as long as he had that smile. And some day, he’d be worthy of Amhara, and he’d make her his wife. Such a beautiful woman, with such a caring heart, deserved only the best.

He could try to be more like that. More kind.

He’d shut Ren off ever since the whipping. He’d seen it as weakness. Not only the act of a coward, but the kind of act that destroyed trust within a group. Whatever Ren’s problem had been, it was always best to settle things yourself.

But the kid was soft. And could he really be blamed for that? Ren hadn’t been on the streets for even a fraction the time Parna had. Maybe he should go easier on the guy. He’d been missing from training today. Hopefully he was alright.

Laughter tinkled out of the medic tent. Amhara. Holy Light was she beautiful, even her voice made his heart skip a beat. Like a… Like a bird in a sunrise. No, that didn’t do her justice. He was no good at that kind of thing anyway. He’d show her how wonderful she was so it didn’t matter if he couldn’t find the words.

He lifted the tent flap and eased in, following the sound of her voice through the maze of hanging cloth dividers and cots.

A male voice broke in. Muffled. Then more laughter.

Parna froze as he rounded the last corner. She was bent over a man. Massaging his sinuous arm. Laughing. And smiling. Her real smile. The smile that was supposed to be only for him.

It couldn’t be… No.

Was this Reena and Kasif all over again? No.

It couldn’t be happening again. Not like this. Not Ren.

No. No. No.

*******

Ren looked up. He could have sworn someone had just peeked around the corner.

“Doctor Harun?”

No answer.

A bouquet of winter blooming flowers, icy blue and crimson, lay on the ground.